The VR
by Splinter Hawk
Summary: My first piece here. Pretty good writing. I'm posting the first chapter, and if it gets good reviews I'll post the rest. I have a good twist on the ned if you guys like it.


The VR Written By Daniel Toy  
  
Chapter One: Crunch The Numbers  
  
Splinter Hawk sat in a light blue swivel chair in front of a black tv screen. On the screen are images of a small islang, and green read outs on the top right. An old man steps to the right of the screen. Wrinkles cover his face from tough times. Every second he looks, oyu earn more respect for him.  
  
"Canomeir is an island in the middle of the pacific ocean. We've received photographs of nuclear missiles being loaded underground the base. Guards are posted everywhere, and measures have been take underwater to protect the island. An unnamed rebel force has takne post there, killing the few inhabitants of the island. your mission is of the submersive type. You're to infiltrate the base on the island and discover what the missiles are being used for. If needed, you will be forced to disarm," Colonel White paused for a moment as the image on the screen changed.  
  
"An officer named Martin Anglenos is hidden in the base somewhere on the b-2 floor. He's our mole, and will provide you with the necessary information that we do not have,"  
  
"Anglenos? The creator of the VR training system?" asks Splinter Hawk, also known as Michael Dahm.  
  
"Yes, the very same. Now onto submersion. The underwater route will not work, as they have dropped stealth equipped depth charges into the surrounding water space. They are vicinity charged, so there is no safe way in water wise. We will go throguh the air during the night using undetectable military jets. You will be dropped roughly five miles from the base in the rough forests of Canomeir. From then on we will be able to communicate by way of codec. That is all,"  
  
"Great, so I'm in a shotgun type situation? Hit hard and fast, hopefully finding something,"  
  
"Yes,"  
  
--- (-Canomeir Island, Roughly 7 Hours Later-)  
  
Near pitch black clouds are the paintings on the canvas that is the sky. Rain drops drop from miles above lightly, and thunder cracks off in the distance. A forest is off in the distance. A revolver is loaded with a distinct click, and closed with a roll. The rusted metal is a badge earned from past times of hardship and wrong decisions. The clear metal represents the sins to come. An overcoat flaps as the wind begins to pick up.  
  
"Slow moving targets are harder to hit. It's a basic rule that anyone who's handle a gun knows, but few have practiced," Black boots walk across strong, rough earth. Raindrops ricochet as they hit the surface. The voice speaking rivals the ground in terms of roughness. "But the question is, do you risk the time to disable your target's legs, or do you try for the kill immediately? Sadly you will not be able to ponder this, as the difference between life and death in a duel such as this is fractions of second, if you're lucky of course,"  
  
The man's arm is extended within a second, the other hand on the top of the revolver. Five shots, each deadly as they are accurate. Roughly a couple yards away, a younger man rolls from the shots, evading all but one, which catches him in the thigh. He reaches for his gun, but a bullet singes the tip of his finger. Another shot hits him in the chest. He reaches for his gun again, and his hand is hit with a bullet. He finally gives into the pain and rolls onto his side, pressing his bleeding hand on his chest. A revolver is loaded with a distinct click, and closed with a roll.  
  
"God...damn...," the younger man gasps, his one unharmed hand scratches the ground, trying to ignore the pain. His eyes are tightly closed. The distinct sound of someone blowing is heard, a small wisp of smoke floats above the young man's head.  
  
"I always go for the kill. In a duel, the objective is to kill the other man. Not to disable him and kill him as if he was some sort of animal. Honor is the most important part of living life without hating yourself," The man says, flicking some rust off his revolver. He's interrupted.  
  
"Shut...up. If you had any honor...you'd of gave me a chance to get ready...," The young man said. Blood was dripping slowly from his mouth onto the ground. The man laughed heartily.  
  
"An enemy on the battlefield wouldn't give you time to be ready. I've taught you a valuable lesson. Sadly, your knowledge may be lost now that you're time is limited. Help should come soon though, as I'm here to teach, not to kill. Always remember that," He says. He extends the arm that holds his gun and shoots the young man's leg three times. He screams out in agony, pounding his fist on the ground one time, and rolls onto his stomach. Rain has already drenched both of their clothes. "Five shots. Remember that. Remember the Revolver of Ocelot," 


End file.
